


Tumblr One Shots and Drabbles

by WakingJune



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, God!Lock, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock, possesive!sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakingJune/pseuds/WakingJune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of fics from my Tumblr.<br/>FANDOM: SHERLOCK<br/>Currently accepting prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hugs

**Author's Note:**

> My news briefs are long past their due date so naturally I'd work on a Sherlolly fic instead!  
> My first work for the fandom and hopefully not my last.  
> Enjoy!

Sherlock loves hugs.

It's because he's been without them for so long, he muses, that he craves them and gets them whenever the opportunity presents itself. He liked being hugged and giving them. More specifically, he likes being hugged by and giving hugs to _his_ pathologist.

Doesn’t matter where or when, his hands will always find purchase on Molly's hips as she studies a plate under a microscope or when she's arranging her notes from the previous post-mortem reports. If he determines that she won’t be moving around much he’d rest his head on either her shoulder or her head, the difference in their heights working to his advantage.  

He thinks it started the night after The Fall. When he finds himself sitting on the couch of Molly's apartment in the dead of the night, staring listlessly in space and she's suddenly in front of him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and his head flat on her stomach. They stayed that way for a while, unmoving, the light from the passing cars filtering through her blinds being their only light source. When he could feel Molly peeling her arms away did he finally brought his hands around her waist, hands clinging to her clothes desperately as he tried to bury his face deeper onto her stomach. Later, when they parted and he asked her what prompted her to hug him, she gave him a small resigned smile and told him he looked like he could use one at the time and then he leaves.

He comes back to her apartment two years later, hair wild and unkempt, his eyes hollow and dark. It’s only after he has stepped in her space, head buried in the crook of her neck and with his hands around her back does he realize that, in all of the years in his self-imposed exile, the he had greatly missed this and, if he was a little more honest with himself, _her._

It’s John who points out that he only ever does it to Molly. And when he ponders what he said later he realizes that, while he receives the occasional hug from a handful of people, Lestrade when he returned, John in his wedding, and Mary’s occasional gesture for gratitude, he concedes that he only ever reaches out for Molly and finds that he has very little inclination to hug anybody else.

It wasn’t until he saw good ol’ Meat Dagger's arms around her that he realized that he wants to monopolize her hugs and saw very little mercy for anyone else who might want the same thing. He was about to stride in and go on a full tirade about his observations, if only to terrorize the man slightly, when a woman links her hand around Tom’s and whisks him away leaving Molly back to her work.  

He comes in to the morgue and without missing a beat, holds her wrist gently and guides her to him, once again, enveloping her, burying his head in her hair, so she could only think about him around her and no one else.

“I want full rights to your hugs.” he says, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Buy me dinner first.”

“I’ll take you to another case with me.”

“Then dinner.” she countered.

“Then dinner.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> *edit* some of the glaringly obvious mistakes, corrected *how embarrassing*


	2. The Curious Case of the Missing Virgins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Molly is the unwilling sacrificial lamb. [But we can't have that now, can we?]  
> god!lock sort of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, sleep deprivation is conducive to ridiculous writing.  
> Enjoy!  
> -June

She trembled in her spot, waves rippling through the heavy silk covering her form making her look like a vengeful ghost instead of the virginal maiden presented to the mountain god.

An onlooker would’ve mistaken her shaking body for fear but oh they've never been more mistaken.

She was trembling yes, but not out of fear – oh, never out of fear. _Especially, not this time._ It was because of the sheer white anger that pumped through her veins as she took in her present predicament. She was stripped of everything she had save for the locket her late father had left her, and clothed in garments so foreign and soft she felt no comfort in.  

After all the years of hard work, of the blood, sweat, and tears poured to ensure the well-being of the people she regarded as her family, the village she helped rebuild from the ground up, and this is how they repay her? By insulting her?

She was no longer a child. She’s a woman of seven-and-ten. Well past the danger of becoming a sacrificial lamb as per the old scrolls. She scoffed at the notion of old gods and the disasters the elders have warned them should they fail to make an offering. No one has seen the traces of a god in centuries and still they believe!

She’s not stupid. She’s well aware that the recent decline in the birth of females in her village meant there’s a very limited selection. She knew it was down to her and little Sally, who is barely three and had already lost her mother during her birth. And for the life of her, she could not find it in her heart to have Sally in her place.

Knowing that she has spared the little girl this fate did little to quell the fire in her veins. She was furious and she had every right to be! Those heathens did not even have the decency to inform her! She would've come willingly and peacefully, give little resistance and followed them, planning to sneak a blade underneath her smallclothes and free herself later. But no! Instead, they hit the back of her head like a pig for slaughter! When she gained consciousness here she was! Helpless, alone, and tied up to an altar in the middle of a clearing.

She needed to hit something as soon as she frees herself of these bonds, she swore she will. She tugs on the ropes and grimaces, the skin on her wrists already tender and bleeding from being chafed in her restraints, her arms tightly bound to two wooden poles that stood proudly from the ground, unmoving.

Hours passed and her anger gave way to resentment and sadness. It’s just so terribly unfair. She had a plan ready. Had she known they were coming for her sooner than she expected, she would’ve been able to play the willing maid and devise a way to break free. But that’s neither here nor there. There is nothing she can do. She choked on a bitter laugh as she imagined what it would be like if she had some sort of divine power over birds. They could tear her restraints with their beaks and set her free, wouldn’t that be something?

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as exhaustion took over. She did not bother shouting for help lest it attract the wild beasts that roam the mountain and no one in their right mind would free her.

She could die on this very spot from numerous causes. She muses, will they find her dead, her eyes eaten by crows, her flesh ripped from her bones. Or will the mountain lions come and sink their teeth into her flesh?

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, feeling betrayed and alone. Just when she thought she has earned her rightful place, being the village healer and all, when poor orphaned Molly finally felt respected and recognized, they pulled the rug under her feet and took her here.

She shakes her head. She’s only needlessly frightening herself.

Her musings only served to fill her ire. She will not die here and if she did, she will haunt the men who brought her up the mountain and curse them down to their bones.  

The sun was already setting and soon the blue sky gave way to purple and orange hues. It’s been so long! Surely the mountain god, if he even exists, didn’t care for her nor want her? She found little victory in the thought for if the god does not come for her she’d have other problems and her death would’ve been for naught.

She can very well die of the cold, the temperature in the mountains threatening to drop to dangerous degrees now that fall is over, or be some lucky animal’s dinner. The small optimistic part of her entertained the idea of miraculously undoing her bonds and escaping but where would she go? She couldn’t go back to the village she once called home. Who would accept someone rejected by the gods? They will see her as a bad omen and kill her in an attempt to appease the so far non-existent beings.

 

She had no one. No family, no lover, and the people she once called her friends were the very ones who brought her to the dismal clearing.

 

That hurt the most.

 

She was so lost in her grief and her musings that she did not notice the odd shadows that surrounded her, shadows not cast by the trees or her own body.

A howl from the distance snapped her from her thoughts and she saw movement in the corner of her eye.  

Her gaze was drawn to the shadows mere inches from her feet.

The inky black pools started to sway and spin furiously in the next, all of a sudden forming into a hundred hands reaching out to her, quickly making a grab for body and tearing through her garb. A cold black hand closed around her ankle and she felt her foot dip into the darkness! She screamed in horror as the hand tightened its hold on her, pulling her body down the pit. She thrashed and flailed to no avail, the ropes securing her to the posts the only things keeping her from truly being taken.

More hands covered her, violently pulling her down. Her arms screamed in pain, her muscles protesting against her bonds. The hands move to her face, covering her eyes and her mouth ‘til she could no longer scream nor see.

For a moment, she could feel her body float in nothingness; her being succumbing and getting drowned in the darkness.

 

_This is it_ , she thinks. _This is how she dies._   

 

She felt more than heard a flash of lightning, obliterating the shadows surrounding her. Strong warms hands dragged her up from pit and she finds herself under the piercing stare of the electric blue eyes belonging to the man who saved her.

It’s the last thing she sees as unconsciousness claimed her for a second time that day before she could even utter her thanks, her body exhausted and thoroughly weakened by the strange series of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably throw in more chapters for this in the future.  
> All mistakes are mine. I probably wasn't thinking straight or thinking at all when I posted this.  
> My apologies.  
> This has a steady structure and plot now. sort of. ha! More to come! 
> 
> -June

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Darcy Evan's Distance | Sherlolly vid on youtube. Do check it out.  
> Prompts are welcome :)


End file.
